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i move slow and steady, it holds me and it never lets me go
what im wearing: vintage green sweater, glamorous tapesty skirt & beige hat, vintage wicker basket bag & tally weijl hiking boots
Hiking boots scuffed dirty and old socks that don’t match my sweater. Bare faced, tangled hair that knots in the wind and a wicker basket I grabbed off the kitchen floor and filled with flowers. Big dogs dripping with slobber and a little pet pig (sometimes in a sweater) casually wander the fields between my parents’ houses. There are farmer’s markets piled high with organic fruits and vegetables as well as stacks of old books that no one seems to want but me. There is sunshine and big mighty gusts of wind that sweep through this mini valley my family owns, our own little world as I like to think of it. The swimming pools are lonely blue but dazzling all the same, pumping water round and round until summer reappears. Orange groves look up at big smiling mountains, endless vineyards to run through and quiet beaches down the road to drink coffee on or put my toes in the waves. When my heart is broken or when life gets heavy, I’ll come here. Nothing can hurt me here. I have a huge oak bookshelf filled with my favourite university books, collections of soy candles to burn and a bed with pillows that smell like childhood. My Dad will be out in the fields, knee high in dirt and happy. My Mom, drinking tea and sewing in her studio, a crazy room with fabrics sprouting from every drawer, measuring tapes, scissors and pattern paper flung in every corner. My brothers might be playing their pianos or guitars – a cacophony on the often dirty white steps that climb to the second floor. There is a loaf churning in the breadmaker, soup in the crockpot and an array of salads crammed into our too small fridge. Life is simple and it goes slow – but steady and predictable in that way you silently crave as you get older. The countryside here is a huge part of me – this little valley, it holds me and never lets me go.
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